


The New Boss

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Sapphire and Steel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: Silver rescues a couple of temporally-displaced prisoners.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	The New Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on Unconventional Courtship prompt 129:
>
>>   
> 129) The Harlot- Saskia Walker  
> It is a Dark Era, one when a lusty lad will do what he must to survive. Even if it means bartering flesh for a palmful of coins. . .  
> Forced to watch his mother burn at the stake, Marvin the Paranoid Android knows the danger of the gift he inherited—a powerful magic that must stay hidden. Until one night when he’s accused of witchcraft and Marvin finds himself behind prison walls, awaiting certain death with a roguish priest unlike any man of the cloth he has known. In reality, Silver is as far from holy as the devil himself, but his promise of freedom in return for his services may be his salvation. Locked into a dubious agreement, Marvin resents his plan to have him seduce and ruin his lifelong enemy. But toying with Silver's own lust for him is enjoyable, and he agrees to be his pawn while secretly intending to use him just as he is using him. . . .  
> 

Despite all her experiences since Zaphod had taken her from Earth, Trillian remained, at heart, an Earthwoman. So, when the heavy door of the condemned cell slammed shut on her, her first remark was "So this is it. We're going to die." 

"What a depressingly predictable observation," her cellmate remarked. 

"All right, then, you've got such a big brain, you think of something better to say. Or think of a way of getting us out of this." 

"I have been." 

"OK, what did you come up with?" 

"I have computed seven hundred and forty possible escape plans. The most promising has a probability of success of two to the power of six hundred and twelve thousand, four hundred and sixty-nine to one against." 

Trillian considered the odds, and decided that, unless you were sitting at the controls of the _Heart of Gold_ , they weren't comforting odds to hear. 

"Can't you talk us past the guards?" she suggested, giving her cellmate the most encouraging smile she could manage — though experience told her this was like trying to melt an iceberg using only a hummingbird. "I know you've done that before." 

"When the guards were computers," Marvin reminded her. "Or robots. Even the simplistic models had enough clock speed to keep up with me while I was explaining my philosophy of life to them. A biological lifeform like you would never maintain concentration long enough." 

Trillian briefly considered asking Marvin if he could, perhaps, give it a try; his conversational style was certainly sapping her own will to live. But instead she slumped against the wall and said "Guess we're going to die, then." 

"That remains the most likely outcome. Miserable, isn't it?" 

"It certainly is," a voice said from what had, moments ago, been an empty corner of the cell. "So we'd better make sure it doesn't happen, hadn't we?" 

Trillian swung round. Leaning nonchalantly against the stone wall was a slender, redheaded man — _humanoid_ , she corrected herself. He was dressed like the priests were in this time, except that his cassock and hat were pale grey rather than black, and sparkled when they caught the light. 

She rubbed her eyes, but the apparition showed no signs of vanishing. 

"Sorry to intrude," he went on. "But I understood you to say you were locked in here beyond hope of rescue." 

"That's right—" Trillian began, but the newcomer held up his hand. 

"I was talking to your friend," he said politely. 

"Well, we both are." She turned to Marvin, for whatever support might be forthcoming. "Aren't we, Marvin?" 

"The primitive lifeforms sentenced us to burn at the stake," Marvin said. "Apparently I was considered to be a Satanic golem. It's the same everywhere you go. People can't wait to find an insulting name for you. At least 'golem' has the disadvantage of novelty." 

"I certainly wouldn't call you that," the man said. "You're a Sirius Cybernetics prototype, aren't you? A unique work of art." 

"I'd ask you how you knew, except that it's written on my serial number panel." 

The visitor stepped closer, seemingly lost in awe. "I wonder how they managed to come up with you? Maybe it was just a lucky coincidence. Once in a while, all the faulty components align in perfect balance..." 

"Did I mention that I have a terrible pain in all the diodes down my left-hand side?" 

Trillian, who'd mouthed the end of the sentence in silent unison with Marvin, cleared her throat. "Are you some sort of expert on robots?" 

"I'm an expert on many things, young lady." He was sparing only a fraction of his attention on her, his focus still firmly on the robot. 

"But including robots?" _Because the way you're coming onto him, I hope that's a professional interest,_ she mentally added. 

"Yes, including robots." 

"So if there's something the matter with his diodes, could you... I don't know... fix them or replace them or something?" 

"And ruin a masterpiece? The whole depends on the parts of which it is the sum." He patted Marvin on the arm. "I assure you, I would never dream of making any such ill-thought out 'improvements.'" 

"Didn't think so," Marvin said, in what Trillian thought of as his told-you-so tone. 

Trillian frowned. "So what are you doing here? And how did you get here, anyway?" 

"Strictly speaking, I came to resolve a temporal anomaly. But it would be just as true to say I came to rescue you. Doesn't that sound nicer?" 

"I guess," Trillian began, but was cut off again by the upraised hand. 

"No," Marvin said, as the stranger glanced back at him. "Nothing ever sounds nicer. Only nastier." 

"Take it however you like." 

"Do you have a name?" Trillian asked. 

"Silver. Like the pirate, only without the Long John or the wooden leg." The man produced, seemingly from a back pocket, a ball of what might have been wool, except that it shimmered in a remarkably un-wool-like way. "I'll bring both of you with me. You're both temporally displaced, after all. Rather shocking, really. They seem to let almost anybody have time travel these days." 

"You're going to rescue us?" Trillian asked. "With that? How?" 

"I'm going to knit a time machine. Don't worry, I'm quite good at them by now." From an inner pocket, he produced two needles and set about his task. 

Trillian looked at Marvin, opened her mouth, and decided that the only thing she could think of saying was "He's knitting a time machine?" and she didn't want to be told off for stating the obvious again. Even though it was not a sentence she'd ever thought she'd need to use. 

⁂

Silver folded his arms and looked at the chaotic scene before him. "What did I say?" 

"You said: 'Don't touch anything,'" Marvin said. "Every time somebody says that, the consequences are depressingly predictable. Especially when Earth people are involved." 

"Well, I thought you meant don't touch anything like airlocks or weapons or things I didn't know what they were for," Trillian protested. "Not vending machines." 

Silver looked as close to exasperation as he ever came. "I believe I mentioned that the circuits on this ship are tangled on a fundamental level. Even something as simple as ordering a drink could have set off the self-destruct system. You're quite lucky the effect was so minor." 

"Doesn't feel minor where I'm standing," Trillian said. She waved her arm, sending gobbets of cake and icing in all directions. "It went all over me." 

"Well, you've learnt your lesson now." Silver held a small sphere up to his eye, then set out along the corridor. "This way." 

Trillian tried to follow, and found she couldn't. "I, uh, think I'm stuck." 

"Ah. Yes." Silver looked back. "I suppose the non-Newtonian properties of Arcturan mega-lime drizzle cake might have that effect. But that definitely isn't my area of expertise. Marvin, I don't suppose you could..." 

"Pick up the human female?" Marvin completed the sentence for him. "Why not?" He took two steps towards Trillian, and took hold of her by the arms. With the squelching of the cake added to his usual artificial mechanical groaning noises, he began to haul her free of the glutinous mess. Her boots briefly resisted, then slipped off her feet and were left behind. 

"Meet the new boss," he added, setting Trillian down on the floor safely away from the cake-splattered environs of the vending machine. "Same as the old boss. They say this time it'll be better, but nothing changes. Nothing _ever_ changes. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they ask me to pick up a button-pressing monkey. Call that an improvement? I certainly don't."


End file.
